


Not Quite Standard

by BleuWaters



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, bruce banner x reader - Freeform, hope you do too, i love it, it was so satisfying to write, true fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12741744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuWaters/pseuds/BleuWaters
Summary: Bruce Banner x reader one-shot. Boy meets girl, Hawkeye gives advice, there's dancing, it's all good.





	Not Quite Standard

This was _it_.

The best gyro in downtown New York.

The line was horrifically long; a dozen people in front of him made the wait last a half hour.

But it's worth it.

Nine bucks for the best gyro in the city, a big cup of soda, and a little cup of chocolate pudding. A strange combination, but a good deal. Cheaper than any meal anywhere else nearby.

Just as Bruce sinks his teeth into his lunch, a lovely young woman in line grins at him.

“Is it worth ten bucks?” you ask, and your grin widens when he looks up, startled, with a piece of onion hanging out of his full mouth.

“Huh?” he asks gracelessly.

“The gyro. Is it worth it?”

He nods, working the onion into his mouth with his tongue and chewing on the big bite.

“Can you ask for no onions? I'm on my lunch break. Um, I work retail. Talk to people all day. Better to not have bad breath.” You smile, but frown, then shake your head. “Sorry, that was...um, what-what do you do?”

“I’m a scientist.”

“What kind?”

“Mostly nuclear.”

“Oh, cool.” You nod, still feeling kind of awkward. And it had started off so well! “You have a name, doctor?”

“Banner. Uh, Bruce Banner.” He shuffles his lunch into his left hand and holds out his right. When you grasp it, you find it cold and clammy.

You give your own name, and smile when he comments on how he knew someone with the same name many years ago.

“Do you live here in New York?”

“Uh, yeah, um...temporarily. I'm doing some...focused research and staying with a friend,” says Bruce, “And you? Live here?”

“Yup. Comin’ up on two years now.”

“Oh, okay.” He nods, his gaze seeming to land anywhere but on you.

It's a moment of awkward silence between the two of you as the person in front of you finishes ordering. You order and pay, then offer Bruce a smile when you catch his eye.

“Would you wanna go for coffee sometime?” you ask, taking your food and a napkin, “I know a great place just up the street from here; cheap and good.”

“Oh. Sure! Yeah, that'd be great,” he says, nodding quickly.

Another weird pause.

“If you give me your phone, I'll type in my number,” you say, and your new friend kicks himself for not thinking of it. The number keys click as you enter the digits, and you smile, handing the phone back. “Well, I guess I'll see you around, Bruce.”

“Yeah. I'm looking forward to it,” he says, a faint smile on his face as you turn and walk away.

 

~o0o~

 

Bruce frowns and rubs his hands together. It's been two days. Is it too soon to call? Or text? Should he text or call?

He turns his phone on its face. He thought he would just call you, but it got complicated. While he isn't opposed to asking a friend for advice, the geographically closest one is Tony, and he's maybe the worst person to ask about dating.

Bruce rules out Natasha and Steve and Thor, also.

He takes a breath.

Clint is the only semi-reasonable option.

“Hey, uh...Agent Barton?”

Clint looks up from a cup of caramel-banana yogurt filled with crunchy cookie pieces. “What?” he asks.

“Uh…” Bruce coughs dryly and frowns, unable to piece a workable sentence together.

Clint raises his brows. “Come on, man, I'm eating my lunch.”

Bruce nods. “Sorry. Say you meet a girl and got her number; how long would you, personally, wait before calling her?” he asks.

“Ya got a date?”

“No, but I'm trying to,” Bruce chuckles.

“D’you like her?”

“So far, yeah.”

“Then call her. Who cares if you seem eager? If she likes you, she's probably glued to her phone, waiting to hear from you.”

“If not?”

“You can't miss what you don't have.”

“Ouch,” winces Bruce, but he nods, “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

So Bruce calls you, his brow knit in concentration.

You don't pick up, both to his relief and disappointment. He sends a concise text asking which day will work best for your schedule, then decides to work until you answer, instead of worry.

Just as he begins the delicate task of removing a length of foreign wire from a seventy-year-old HYDRA gun, his phone buzzes sharply, and he jolts, quickly thankful that his tweezers weren't fully in the weapon.

The text from you says:

‘I finish work at two tomorrow. Meet you @ 2:30? :)’

Bruce breathes a relieved sigh, then texts back the meeting’s confirmation.

‘Sounds good. See you tomorrow. :)’

 

~o0o~

 

The coffee is lovely, and so is the company. Bruce finds himself perfectly content with listening to your stories. You talk about childhood blunders and your family dynamics, and he listens, not too far from entranced. He finishes his coffee long before you even get started on yours, and he orders another (both decaf, because regular makes him jittery and he has to go back to work later).

He loves how real you are. There's no superficial censorship of the icky details, and you are open about past embarrassments, though they do make you blush.

Bruce smiles into his cup. He really likes you.

“And then I got grounded, which...was not worth it, now that I think about it,” you say, frowning slightly and pausing to sip your coffee, “But...lesson learned. I have never, to this day, been arrested for trespassing.”

“Well, that's good,” Bruce chuckles, “Would you hate me if I said I agree with your parents?”

“What, for grounding me?”

“Yeah.”

“Pssh, of course not. I agree with them, too; at least, now I do.”

“Right.” Bruce sighs softly. He hasn't felt so relaxed around another person for an awfully long time, and he tells you that.

“You flatter me,” you say, turning pink and hiding it behind your coffee cup.

“It's true,” assures the scientist, putting his hands together and sliding them between his knees. He shrugs. “And I'm really happy for that.”

You smile. “Me too,” you say, and you mirror his body language, shrugging as he did, “Who knows? Maybe this is the start of something really good.”

 

~o0o~

 

It most certainly was.

You smile, sliding your left hand up on Bruce's shoulder. He returns the grin,pulling you close with one hand behind your back, the other taking your free one, and the two of you sway to some excellent blues. You giggle softly, pressing your cheek to his as you move.

“ _Dance with me_ ,” you sing dramatically, “ _I want my arms about you. Those charms about you will carry me through to heaven…_ ” Smiling, you hum to the finish, stroking your fingers through the curls at the back of Bruce's neck.

Then the song switches and you sigh happily when Bruce's breath passes over your ear. His singing voice is quiet, shy like he is, but solid, and moderately good.

“ _I'll be seeing you_ ,” he begins, “ _In all the old, familiar places that this heart of mine embraces all day through. In that small café. The park -with the gyro truck- across the way_.” The two of you laugh, your hold on each other tightening gently. You both hum along softly, and you rest your head on his shoulder, a warm feeling of contentment rolling around your stomach.

As the song begins to end, you feel Bruce take a breath, and his chest vibrates as he sings the last lines. You look up at him, going somewhat cross-eyed in the process.

“ _I'll find you in the morning sun, and when the night is new...I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this one was so fun. I hope you liked it too. Thanks for reading! Be sure to leave kudos and comments <3


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